


Consequences

by victorine



Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Alpha Galahad, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Kiss, Fluff, Hannibal Extended Universe, Idiots in Love, M/M, Omega Tristan, Summertime Slick, but cute with it, for which i won't apologise, galahad's kind of a pillock, surprise heat, tristan calls him pup about forty-three thousand times in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorine/pseuds/victorine
Summary: The stupid thing was that, for once, he hadn't even been thinking about kissing Tristan. Normally it was all he could do to stop himself from claiming that tempting mouth, poppy red and – in Galahad’s imaginings, anyway – petal soft, working itself into that curling smirk that brought his breath short. He had devoted long hours to constructing first kisses in his mind: some deep and lingering, some gentle and faltering, some filthy-sweet and wet. And all perfect.Instead, in the end, he kissed Tristan for the first time by clumsily smashing their mouths together because the omega simply wouldn't shut up.In which Galahad plants a kiss on Tristan and gets far, far more than he bargained for from the omega.





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "surprise heat" day of the Hannigram ABO Library's [Summertime Slick](https://hannigram-a-b-o-library.tumblr.com/post/161319937191/summertimeslick-1st-31st-july-2017-running) Event.

The stupid thing was that, for once, he hadn't even been thinking about kissing Tristan. Normally it was all he could do to stop himself from claiming that tempting mouth, poppy red and – in Galahad’s imaginings, anyway – petal soft, working itself into that curling smirk that brought his breath short. He had devoted long hours to constructing first kisses in his mind: some deep and lingering, some gentle and faltering, some filthy-sweet and wet. And all perfect.

Instead, in the end, he kissed Tristan for the first time by clumsily smashing their mouths together because the omega simply wouldn't shut up about how Galahad really needed to _relax with himself_ while he was fighting. The way his upper lip rolled into a sneer as he – yet again – berated Galahad for the limits of his moral perspective was entirely unbearable. Galahad simply couldn't stand it for a second more, and so had elected to grab Tristan by the shoulders and kiss him until he stopped talking.

Which, in Galahad’s defence, did do the trick.

The moment their lips touched, Galahad felt Tristan freeze beneath him. His stomach twisted as he realised what he had done, how disgusted Tristan must be with him. Still, he held his lips against the other knight’s for a moment longer, trying to memorise the feel of them in the only opportunity he would ever have.

Galahad pulled back slowly, tensing in preparation for a well-deserved punch. What the hell had he been thinking? Not much, apparently. Apart from _stop talking, you beautiful bastard, and stop telling me unpleasant truths about myself, and_ please _stop pouting in my general direction._ Frankly, he’d probably punch himself for such idiocy if Tristan wasn’t going to do it for him. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.

_Any moment now._

_Any… moment… oh._

Galahad opened his eyes to the sight of Tristan’s back retreating into the distance, leaving him completely un-punched. And oddly disappointed. Being knocked out wouldn’t have been his preferred result of kissing Tristan (that would be Tristan kissing him back and then dragging him bodily into his quarters so that they could explore what else they could do with their mouths), but at least a punch would have been… _something_. No reaction at all was just hurtful.

Galahad dragged a hand across his beard and decided that if he couldn’t have Tristan inside his mouth, he would settle for a drink instead. Several, in fact.

 

* * *

 

“Any idea what’s up with Tristan?”

Galahad lifted his head from his beer – somewhat reluctantly, given that he’d only been allowed to get one decent pull at it – and tried not to look guilty as Gawain sat down opposite him. “Why should I know? I haven’t done anything to him.”

Gawain gave him a bemused look and said, “Never suggested you did, Gal, the hell are you on about?”

“Nothing.” Galahad ducked his head in embarrassment. “Don’t know. Anyway I never know what’s up with the man. Complete mystery to me.”

Gawain leaned over to peer into his flagon. “How many of those have you had, pup?”

“Not so many I couldn’t land a punch.”

“Fuck’s sake Galahad,” Gawain said, staring at him, “you’re even touchier than usual today. Between you and Tristan, must be something strange in the air.”

That had Galahad’s head snapping back up. “Why? What has Tristan said?”

“Hasn’t said anything. But Dag says he saw him fling himself – fully clothed, mind – into the lake and stay submerged until Dag thought he’d have to go in and rescue him.” Gawain relaxed back into his seat and chuckled. “I know he’s always a little insane, our Tristan, but sounds like he might really have cracked this time.”

Galahad grabbed hold of Gawain’s arm and shook it roughly. “And did he?”

“Did he what?” Gawain asked, pulling his arm away and glaring at Galahad.

“Did he have to go and rescue Tristan?”

“Oh, that. No, he came back up eventually, shouting bloody murder apparently. Refused to come out, too, just growled at Dag until he left him be.” Gawain chuckled again, apparently amused by Tristan’s antics, and then swivelled in his chair as a commotion broke out at the front of the taverna. “O-ho, looks like the lady of the lake has emerged.”

“What? What’s going on Gawain?” Galahad asked, standing up out of his seat to try to see through the crowd and contemplating knocking Gawain over so he’d get his huge, blonde head out of the way.

And then, suddenly, Tristan was standing in front of them, so wet he was dripping, clothes clinging to the planes of his body, and glaring at Galahad with a feral expression and a sneer on _that fucking mouth_ that caused Galahad’s cock to twitch traitorously beneath the flaps of his pteruges.

Galahad opened his mouth to say something, to ask if Tristan was alright, but the omega stared him down into silence. “Actions have consequences, _alpha_ ,” he growled, sneering out the last word. Then, without any warning, Tristan grabbed Galahad and slung him easily over his shoulder, Galahad’s head coming face-to-face with Tristan’s arse. Which brought two things swiftly to the young alpha’s attention:

  1. Tristan’s backside could have been carved from marble.
  2. It was not just water Tristan was soaked with.



Galahad breathed deep and moaned, helplessly, as the scent of Tristan’s slick filled his nose. It was all he could do not to bury his head in the curve where Tristan’s back met his buttocks, not to trace his tongue against the sodden fabric of his trousers where it clung to his flesh. The omega smelled glorious, like sun-warmed earth and pine forests, and the faintest trace of molten iron, the scent of weaponry clinging to Tristan’s skin. All thought was replaced by the need to be filled with that scent, and Galahad ceased to struggle, content to simply be wrapped in Tristan’s presence as they continued towards the living quarters.

Tristan stalked into his room and deposited Galahad unceremoniously on the floor, which knocked enough sense back into him to be able to figure out what was happening.

“Heat,” Galahad murmured, near-unaware of his surroundings, “you’ve gone into your heat.”

“Yes,” Tristan growled, looming over the bewildered alpha. “Your fault. I tried to staunch it,” he said, gesturing to his damp clothing, “but the damage was done. So now you will be learning about responsibility, little alpha.”

“My fault?” Galahad stammered, gaping at Tristan as he turned away. “How the hell is it _my_ fault? Tristan, I… what the fuck are you doing?”

Tristan finished pulling off his tunic and turned to glare witheringly at Galahad. “You think I should stay in my wet clothes, pup?”

“No, that’s… no, of course not. But while I’m… and you’re in…” Galahad was having great difficulty remembering how words worked while Tristan was revealing more and more tanned and taut flesh, and with it releasing more of that spectacular scent that was making Galahad’s head spin with desire. He wondered if trapping him in this room with a heat-fevered omega he couldn’t touch was meant to be his punishment for the kiss.

If it was, Tristan was even more of a sadist than he’d thought.

Completely naked now, Tristan stalked past Galahad and crawled onto his bed, leaning his head down onto his forearms and raising his ass in the air to make quite the most appealing picture Galahad had ever seen. “Come on then, _alpha_ ,” Tristan spat, turning his head to fix Galahad with a glare, “get on with it, don’t piss about.”

Galahad’s mouth flapped open and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. “You want me to… you want me to mate with you?” The question came out as a squeak.

“Whether I want you to or not is irrelevant. I’m going to need a knot and since you are the reason for that unfortunate necessity, you are going to provide one.” Tristan lowered his head back to his arms and growled, “Unless you have a problem with that, Galahad the Pure.”

Galahad stared for a second. It would be easy, horribly easy, to simply undress and slide into Tristan, already slick and open with heat. To take his pleasure and feel Tristan tight around his knot and-

“Fuck, yes I have a problem with that!” Galahad snapped, causing Tristan to whip his head round, eyes narrowed and fierce. “I don’t even know how you think I’m responsible! All I did was kiss you Tristan, that…” He trailed off and simply stared at Tristan for a moment. “You can’t possibly… Tristan you can’t think that was enough to set you off!”

A growl came from low in Tristan’s throat and he sneered, reminding Galahad uncomfortably of the moment he’d kissed him. “Do not flatter yourself, pup, it was due in a few days anyway. You simply nudged it closer, any alpha taking such liberties would have had the same effect.”

“One moment of foolishness and you choose to punish me like this?” Galahad felt anger rise inside him to mingle with his dashed hopes. “I knew you were cruel, Tristan, but this I would have said was beyond you.”

“Punish you?” Tristan finally twisted out of his position and flew off the bed to confront Galahad. “How is this punishment? Any alpha would jump at the chance of a wet, willing hole, do not claim you are any different.”

“How little you think of me. I would rather be nothing at all to you than that.” Galahad took a breath and calmed his tone. “I will not be just a knot for you to fuck,” he said, voice low and bitter, the words forced out between gritted teeth.

“Why kiss me at all then, pup?” Tristan sneered, unmoved by Galahad’s words. “To humiliate me? Control me?”

“Because I love you, you stupid bastard.”

The silence that followed his words tasted sharp and painful to Galahad, his heart held exposed within it. It filled the room, pressing close and uncomfortable against his skin until he had to say something.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to… to take advantage. I’ve thought of kissing you so often, I don’t know why I did it today, I just couldn’t stop looking at your mouth, and I wanted… and I always want to, so I don’t know-”

Tristan put his hand over Galahad’s mouth to stop his babbling. “Hush, pup, I’m thinking.”

Galahad stared at him and tried very hard to resist the urge to lick at Tristan’s skin, so warm and so close and covered in the scent of his heat. He wanted to suck the flesh into his mouth, to taste the salt of Tristan’s sweat and slick mingled together… but it would not do to make such a mistake twice in one day, he might as well roll over and let Tristan kill him if he did such a thing.

“You love me, you say.” Tristan lifted his hand, and allowed Galahad to reply, _yes_ , to his question before replacing it. “For how long?”

Again he removed his hand to let Galahad speak, and Galahad felt he did an admirable job of not chasing after it. “Training,” he managed to choke out, “when you taught me to use my bow.” He expected – hoped, a little – that Tristan would replace his hand, continue playing his game of questions. Instead, he dropped his arm by his side, looking unconvinced.

“We were nothing but children, Galahad. This is nothing more than a crush you speak of.”

“I thought that. I hoped it. I knew you would never return my feelings and so I prayed for them to fade. But they only grew as we did, every time you showed me up in a fight, every time you drank me under the table, every time you were kind to that stupid bird of yours.”

Tristan frowned at that but let it pass. “And after all these years of pining, you kissed me today because?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop arguing with me! And your mouth, it does this thing where it curls at the edges when you’re telling me how stupid I am, and it drives me crazy Tristan, I can never think when you do it, and I always lose every argument because I can’t stop looking at your damn mouth and mmmmmf!”

Tristan, apparently, had decided that kissing someone to shut them up was a very effective method after all.

It was not, as it turned out, any better a kiss than their first had been. Galahad was entirely too stunned to respond, his hands fluttering around Tristan’s waist but not brave enough to actually touch, and his mouth remaining stubbornly closed against the heat of Tristan’s. It wasn’t until Tristan flicked his tongue sweetly against the seam of his mouth that Galahad finally woke up enough to realise what had happened, but he could only chase after the press of Tristan’s lips as they pulled away, and Tristan regarded him with amusement.

Amusement and, Galahad realised with a start, nervousness. Trepidation. Fear.

“It’s ok,” he said, his hands suddenly working again and clasping Tristan’s arms. “I’m not going to run off. I…” Galahad suddenly remembered something terribly important. “Tristan, did you really jump in the lake to try to stop your heat?”

Then Galahad saw something he had never expected to in all his days.

Tristan blushed.

“I thought… perhaps if I could lower my temperature…” He hesitated, avoiding Galahad’s eyes. “I was not ready to deal with what a heat would mean.”

Galahad placed a finger beneath Tristan’s chin and drew his eyes upwards. “You said it meant nothing, that any alpha would have brought it on.”

Tristan looked at him. “A lie, pup. My heat isn’t due for weeks.”

“Then… how?”

Tristan tucked an errant curl behind Galahad’s ear and smiled at him fondly. “Because I’m in love with you, you stupid bastard.”

Galahad could only stare at Tristan, trying to take in the words. “Oh,” he said, eventually, living up to the name of _stupid_. “Really?” he added, after a moment, not really doing anything to raise his reputation in terms of intelligence.

“Yes, pup.”

“Oh.” Galahad felt a smile, wide and silly, spread across his face to match the one on Tristan’s. “I love you too.”

“You mentioned that,” Tristan teased.

“Yes. Sorry. Think I’m a bit stunned. And your scent… Fuck, Tristan, you’re in heat.”

“Yes.”

“Which means we should… if you want to…”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, alpha, _my_ alpha, right fucking now.”

Their third kiss, Galahad was thankful to discover, was indeed the charm.

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me on [tumblr](http://victorineb.tumblr.com)!


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